


Dragon Age: Brewing Gins

by Squigglydoo



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Enemies to Friends, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26340979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squigglydoo/pseuds/Squigglydoo
Summary: A quest to recreate the greatest drink in all of Thedas somehow ties a group of misfits to some of the most era defining events in their lifetimes.Mostly tavern fluff, fantasy alcohol and somewhat dickish characters getting drunk and learning to get a long... and then immediately forgetting. Maybe Its Always Sunny in Ferelden would've been a suitable alt title name?





	Dragon Age: Brewing Gins

> _Brewer's Notes: The Big One_
> 
> _I swear I can still smell it when I wake up some nights, stirred from my sleep from the restless urges these memories bring with them. A potent brew, whose flavour beguiles its power. An operatic mix of fizz and spice to make the heart yearn and leap and remember what it was like to fall in love all over again. It would kick you off your chair and you'd never hit the ground, floating on the ethereal sensation of peacefulness that would follow, before a vibrant energy would rise up within you once more and make you feel like you could soar through the clouds. And then, time would come again for the next sip. Even its colours whispered of its unique place among spirits, yellow to orange to red to violet, like a steady sunset sky captured in a bottle and swirling with an effervescent shimmer. The one drink to be truly considered divine. The Maker's liquor, the magical brew, the greatest pint that Thedas had ever seen._
> 
> _If only I could remember how to make the damnable thing._

**Chapter One : Destiny Calls at Five in the Morning**

* * *

**_Plink - Dunk - Ratatatata - Thumph_ **

Cyras awoke to the sound of pebbles dropping against the mismatched boards around the edge of his window and tumbling back down the the thatched roof of his house. He ignored it at first, as expected of anyone as tired, glum and generally unenthused about life as Cyras was - especially without even having access to coffee.

**_Plink - Dunk - Ratatatata - Thumph_ **

The second one stirred the elf so deeply that he was forced to act. And act he did, by wrapping his itchy pillow around his head to block out the noise. Three more, admittedly slightly muffled, plinks, dunks, ratatatas and thumphs later, a voice joined the targeted attack on his sleep.

"Cyras! Cyras!" the owner was trying to both shout and whisper at the same time, succeeding only in making him sound more grating. "Get up! I have a proposition for you. Fetch me a larger pebble, perhaps we simply aren't using one large enough."

"Maker kill me now." Cyras murmured under his breath as he closed the pillow tighter around him.

"Will this do m'lord?" came a second, quieter voice.

"Ah, that, Varana, is a brick. That should do splendidly."

Shit.

Cyras threw off his covers and chucked his pillow aside as he rushed to the window and fiddled with the latch. It stuck as he tried to pull it open in his haste. "Shit, shit, fuck. Don't you dare throw that brick, I'm awake you bastard!" he yelled down towards them, but it was too late. The corner pane of glass shattered as a brick fell at his feet, causing the elf to leap back from the shattered glass. "You fuckwit! That could've hit me!"

"Apologies, my esteemed compatriot, but I have a matter most urgent to discuss with you."

"I ought to chuck this brick back down." Cyras muttered to himself, before yelling "Don't chuck anything more up, you shem bastard. What are you even doing here anyway?"

Cyras began to chuck off his drab and dreary sleepwear and slip into his drab and dreary half-asleepwear instead. His vest a size too small, his jacket a size too big and trimmed down to fit. His boots were perhaps once nice looking, or as nice looking as you could expect from any Alienage Elf, but years of mud, scrapes and use and loosing the shoelace on the left boot had lost them even that remark. He made his way down the stairs, the floorboards creaking much to the disgruntlement of his sleeping cohorts, a cluster of elves he barely spoke to that he sheltered with.

"Sure, that'll wake you up... not the brick through the window, my bad." he muttered as he made his way to the front door.

"Ah, there's my good man." he heard as he opened the door to come face to face with a curious sight.

Before him stood an elf, red haired with wide, sparkling green eyes and a nervous smile, presumably this Varana he heard mentioned, which would be a normal sight in the Alienage if it weren't for the fact that she was dressed in quite pristine servants clothes and standing next to a human. This human, however, was dressed in what seemed to be gaudy silk pantaloons and fine buttoned tunic. Gilded and emblazoned with gold and blue threads. All underneath what looked like a velvet curtain haphazardly cut and restitched into a cloak. Beneath the hood of this cloak, a beard so well groomed it looked preposterous among the faces of the Alienage, its dark brown features adding a sharpness to the admittedly otherwise dull looking pale face that bore it.

"The fuck are you wearing, Hubert." Cyras said folding his arms and leaning against the door frame.

"Shh." the man said, bring a finger to his immaculately trimmed and styled moustache and lips. "I'm incognito. None shall know I'm a human lord."

"You're just as daft as ever I see. Really wasn't a smart move coming here alone, shem."

"I had no choice. Cyras, my good man, I am in need of your services. I have developed a foolproof scheme that would see me... us... both... mutually... the two of us... in equal portions... extremely rich."

"Right... I'm sure you do. Well, best of luck to you, I've no interest in being bossed around by you again." Cyras responded, gripping the door as he prepared to slam it shut.

"Wait, Cyras. I swear this time will be different. Ow!" Hubert said, blocking the door shutting with his foot. "Next time you'll get the door Varana."

"Of course, m'lord."

Cyras shot Varana a cynical look before rolling his eyes at Hubert. "You expect me to believe you won't be treating me like a slave to discard on a whim again?"

"Of course I won't!" Hubert declared, shaking the pain in his foot away. "I have Varana for that now!"

"Wow. I see you've changed so much. Now piss off." This time Varana's foot blocked the door from shutting, leaving both of Cyras's unwanted guests hopping around on one foot outside his home.

"Why... why would you do that?" Cyras asked her incredulously. "There is no way he's paying you enough for that!"

It was Hubert who answered "Please Cyras. Can't you see we're desperate."

"Yes. Plainly. I don't care."

"Cyras, if you won't do it for me because you hate me..."

"Correct."

"...And you won't do it for yourself because you've given up on life and have decided to die alone and unloved out of spite..."

"...Well that's a uncalled for, but not inaccurate."

"Then at least do it for sweet Varana here." Hubert gestured to his elven servant who gave Cyras the sweetest, most heart melting smile she could muster.

This time both Varana and Hubert's feet were injured in preventing Cyras slamming the door.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Andraste have mercy, you'd think you were trying to injure my toes with that one." Hubert groaned as he clutched his foot.

"Really? How odd." Cyras murmured as he prepared to slam the door again.

"Listen... Cyras... If you won't do it for me. Do it for the drink."

The elf paused. "...Go on."

"Haven't you yearned to remake it... ever since that fateful day when-"

"Yeah, yeah you don't need to remind me, I was there... But look, I've tried remaking it... it simply can't be done."

"Not with the resources available to you in an Alienage perhaps. But I've recently become the owner of a new tavern. Waiting to be opened. Its a short step from their to get our own brewery. And I have contacts. A foolproof plan. I mean it, this time. I have friends in contact with Teyrn Cousland up in Highever and the King of Orzammar's... uh... second child I believe. The favourite apparently. Both should be able to set us up quite securely in their respective And should politics get in the way of our large contacts, Danal in Lothering owes me a favour. I've already made investments into all three of these... If one falls through, we'll have the other two guaranteed. Its all set, Cyras. I just need my master brewer back. We need a drink worthy of the investments I've made to show them. Once we have that, riches for us all!"

Cyras was silent for a few moments. "80/20"

"Pardon?"

"For splitting the profits. 80/20. Its my drink, and you owe me big time anyway."

"I can't... 70/30"

"Agreed"

"To me."

Hubert's foot took another beating from the door.

"50/50. Final offer." Hubert declared.

"60/40. You suck at bluffing."

"Done. Now, off we go."

"Wait... we're leaving now?" Cyras asked, watching in befuddlement as Hubert and Varana immediately turned and started walking away.

"Oh, apologies. Yes, do take time to say goodbye to all your friends."

Cyras glanced back inside the house a little awkwardly.

"...Nah, now's good." he said following them out of the Alienage with his hands stuffed into his pockets, not knowing - or caring, how long it'll be before he would see this place again.

"Wonderful. They will sing songs of your brewing prowess one day Cyras." Hubert declared, his curtain cloak billowing in the wind.

"As long as they sing them far away from me they can do whatever they like. Now do shut up before I bring the entire Alienage down on you, shem."


End file.
